


All So Cold

by GotTheSilver



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Coffee Shops, Happy Steve Bingo, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2019-10-21
Packaged: 2020-12-27 19:49:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124262
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GotTheSilver/pseuds/GotTheSilver
Summary: Scratching his pencil against the paper of his sketchbook, Steve looks up when the door chimes, seeing a man stumbling through the entrance.  He doesn’t look like an art student, despite the streak of grime on his forehead, it looks more like oil than charcoal.  His hair is curling at his collar underneath a beanie, and he’s wearing shoes that look expensive, contrasting with the worn jeans and faded Metallica t-shirt underneath a slightly battered leather jacket.In short, Steve’s fascinated.





	All So Cold

**Author's Note:**

> happy steve bingo square fill: coffee shop.

The rain is hitting the windows of the coffee shop, coloured leaves falling to the ground, some being whisked around by the wind, and Steve sighs as he curls a hand around his mug. Boston’s weather isn’t any different to where he grew up, but Brooklyn had his mom, had Bucky, and here it feels like he’s alone most of the time.

He’d applied to Northeastern on a whim, but when it came down to it, he wanted to leave Brooklyn, wanted to experience something new, and—. Well. He’s not entirely sure that going into debt to study art is the most mature decision he’s ever made, but he loves it. Scratching his pencil against the paper of his sketchbook, Steve looks up when the door chimes, seeing a man stumbling through the entrance. He doesn’t look like an art student, despite the streak of grime on his forehead, it looks more like oil than charcoal. His hair is curling at his collar underneath a beanie, and he’s wearing shoes that look expensive, contrasting with the worn jeans and faded Metallica t-shirt underneath a slightly battered leather jacket.

In short, Steve’s fascinated.

He looks down at his mug to hide the fact he’s been staring, and when he looks up, the man is standing at the counter, furrowing his brow at the pastries under glass.

Turning to a new page, Steve starts sketching the man’s face; the slight pout to his lips, the way his lashes cast shadows on his cheekbones, the little hint of facial hair Steve can see. He works quickly, trying to capture the man in profile while he can, not entirely sure why he’s doing this aside from he can’t not. All too soon the man moves on, grabbing his coffee and a pastry in a wax bag, and then he’s walking towards the door, shooting a nervous smile at Steve before he leaves.

Steve sighs, closing his sketchbook and, knowing he can’t justify buying another coffee today, he savours the last few gulps before starting to gather his things.

The man is nowhere to be found when Steve makes it outside; slightly disappointed, but not surprised, Steve wraps his scarf around his neck and heads on his way.

*

Stopping in at the coffee shop on the way home from his morning shift, Steve rubs his eyes and decides to sit in. It’s a beautiful fall day, but he’s tired and needs a break, and at least at the coffee shop he won’t have to listen to the neighbour that seems convinced she’s a master at the violin.

Ordering a hot chocolate with hazelnut syrup, Steve turns and looks around the small space, not seeing many openings to sit down. Finally spotting an empty chair, Steve walks over and sits down, putting his mug on the table and pulling his sketchbook out. Opening it to the last sketch of the coffee shop he’d been working on, Steve tugs his pencil out and gets to work. It’s almost meditative, losing himself in the ambient sounds around him as he works, his hot chocolate keeping him company.

“Excuse me?”

Steve looks up, slightly startled, even more so when he realises it’s the same man he saw last time he was in the coffee shop. “Uh, hi?”

“Hi,” the man says, a giant mug in his hands. “Can I join you? It’s crowded, and—”

“Oh,” Steve says, looking around and seeing how busy the shop still is. “Yes, sure. Sorry.”

The man shoots him a small smile and nods, taking the seat across from Steve. “Thank you. Tony, by the way.”

“Steve.”

Tony takes a gulp from his coffee and gestures to Steve’s sketchbook. “Don’t let me keep you,” he says. “If you’ve got work to be doing.”

“Not work,” Steve says. “Not really, just idle sketching.”

“Still, you must be good.”

“Why do you say that?”

“You looked happy while you were sketching,” Tony says. “Anyone who looks that happy when they’re creating something must be good at it.”

“That’s an interesting theory,” Steve says, taking a sip of his hot chocolate. “But you haven’t seen me working with clay.”

“I don’t know,” Tony says, raising an eyebrow. “Seems like you’d be good with your hands.”

Steve feels his cheeks flush and he ducks his head, the hot chocolate coming close to going down the wrong way. “Uh—”

“Did I offend you?”

“No,” Steve says quickly. “No, not at. No.”

“So that’s a no?” Tony asks, smirking when Steve shoots a glare at him. “I saw you here last week, right? You were wearing a Mets beanie.”

“I—yeah, how did you—”

“I thought it was a brave move, wearing that in Red Sox territory. New York?”

“Brooklyn,” Steve says with a shrug. “You?”

“Manhattan.”

“Guess that explains the shoes.”

Tony frowns and looks down at his shoes. “What’s wrong with them?”

“Kinda fancy compared to the rest of you.”

“And here I thought I was blending in,” Tony says, lifting his coffee up to his mouth.

Steve watches the way he closes his eyes as he swallows the coffee, the swipe of his tongue over his lips like he’s chasing the taste of it, and when Tony meets his eyes, Steve doesn’t look away.

“Interesting,” Tony says quietly as he smiles at Steve. “Very interesting.”

“You’re—” Steve breaks off and shrugs. “I drew you, last week.”

“That’s... not what I thought you were going to say. So, it’s strictly a professional interest? You staring at me?”

“Depends,” Steve says, something about the way Tony almost looks disappointed at that idea making him brave.

“On what?”

“On if you know where we can get real pizza in this city?” Steve asks, offering a small smile at Tony, hoping that he’s read this right.

“I think I could rustle something up.”

Steve nods, nudging Tony’s foot with his own, ducking his head and trying to hide the flush on his cheeks as Tony’s foot nudges back. When he looks back up, Tony’s staring at him with a soft smile. “Tomorrow night?” Steve asks, fumbling in his pocket for his phone. “I’ve got class until 6, but after that?”

“I—yeah,” Tony says, taking the phone and inputting his number, sliding it back across the table to Steve. “That’ll work.” He looks at his watch and winces, gulping down the last of his coffee. “I gotta go, I have a thing, but—”

“No, I get it,” Steve says, watching Tony stand up. “I, uh. Tomorrow.”

“I’ll text you,” Tony says, tugging a beanie on and nodding. “Promise.”

As Tony heads out of the coffee shop, Steve looks down at his sketchbook and turns to a fresh page, a warmth flooding through his body that has nothing to do with the hot chocolate. Maybe, just maybe, getting to know Tony will be the start of not feeling so alone. At least, Steve thinks as he starts sketching the curve of Tony’s mouth, he hopes it will be.


End file.
